


Bertie and the unexpected epiphany

by siggen1



Series: Don Juan Jeeves [2]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: M/M, References to Jeeves/various
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:05:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3614370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siggen1/pseuds/siggen1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertie tries to come to terms with an upsetting situation, and in the process learns rather more about Jeeves than he’s prepared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While 'Bertie and the Accidental Insight' easily can stand alone, this one is very much a sequel, and I recommend you take a look at that one if you feel like reading this one.

When one is telling a story, one might find oneself wondering just where to start, to avoid bunging the reader in too _medias_ of a _res_ , as it were. One doesn't like to confuse one's audience, of course, but at the same time one will soon get lost in ineffectual details if too much exposition is doled out right off the starting line. This particular story starts right where a previous one let off, with me about to make a bold and discreet escape from Stiffy Byng's wardrobe, having accidentally witnessed her _in flagrante delicto_ with none other than my man Jeeves. As if this wasn't disturbing enough on its own, there was also the fact that during their encounter, she let slip that his skills as a... a lover, I suppose, came with the recommendations of Misses Glossop and Wickham! To top it all off, when Stiffy had left the room to attend to her evening toilette, Jeeves coughed and said, towards the wardrobe: 

"I believe miss Byng is availing herself of the facilities, sir. You should have a few minutes with which to make good your escape from the wardrobe." 

He turned and left, closing the door behind him. Stunned, I shook the old corpus into action and left right on his heels, making my way back to my own room with due haste and thankfully without running into anyone.

I had just sat down and taken a few breaths when Jeeves shimmered in, bearing a tray which, I was relieved to note, carried several sorts of the needful. The man himself had a particularly stuffed expression, a sure sign that he found the sitch quite uncomfortable. I could rather sympathise, though I was starting to feel more angry than uncomfortable. Where, exactly, did my man get the nerve to go about conducting such sordid business right under the young master’s nose?

“I need a drink, Jeeves.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, and commenced with the pouring. 

There were about a thousand thoughts running through the Wooster brain at once, but the only one I could seem to hold on to was the idle wonder as to whether, if I leaned close to Jeeves at that moment, I could smell Stiffy’s perfume on him. Once the drink was tucked safely in my hands (and a goodish bit of it making its way to my bloodstream), I looked at Jeeves, who was busying himself turning down the bed and laying out my pyjamas. 

“Jeeves,” I said, and I can’t be sure, but I think I rather startled him, because he was leaning over the bed working on the sheets, and when I spoke his back straightened so instantly I feared he might injure himself. 

“Yes, sir?”

“I'm going to ask you a few questions. I haven’t had a lot of time to think, so they will be in no particular order.”

“Very good, sir. If I may, sir, I should like to say something before--”

“No, Jeeves, you may not.” I looked at him sternly. “Did you know I was there the whole time?”

“No, sir. It was not until well into the act I became aware that there was a third person in the room. I did not realise it was you until I was dressing and thus was able to cast a glance at the wardrobe unnoticed."

“Why didn’t you...” I was lost for words for a moment. I mean to say, this isn’t the sort of thing one usually goes around discussing with Jeeves, and there are a number of words I don’t feel at all comfortable using around him, paragon of propriety that he is. Was. Seemed to be. Dash it! “... _disengage_ from Miss Byng when you realised you weren’t bally well alone?”

“I considered, sir, that whomever was concealing themselves in the wardrobe had already seen enough that ending the liaison prematurely would serve little purpose. I also considered that should the person be of a discreet nature, my chosen course of action could serve to spare the young lady considerable embarrassment.” 

A fresh wave of irritation hit me, and I heard anger, hard and unyielding, in my voice when I spoke.

“Don’t be coy, Jeeves, I’m sure you most of all considered your own pleasure.” 

If I hadn’t known Jeeves so well, I would likely have missed the look of shame that set about his eyes. "As you say, sir.” 

“All right,” I said, the aforementioned t. t.s swerving even more rapidly in the noggin. “I think I’ll retire.”

“Sir, if I may, I would like to apologise for my actions. Should you wish to dismiss me from your service--”

“Not yet,” I said, and I swear, the man looked crestfallen. “But we need to have a frank discussion, Jeeves, and I’d like to have it somewhere the walls don’t have ears. We’ll set sail back for the metropolis tomorrow, as early as you can finish readying the car.” 

He assented, and we bid each other goodnight, after which I ruined a perfectly good washcloth pulling myself off to the memory of Jeeves pounding into Stiffy, and the look on his face as he came.


	2. Chapter 2

The less said about the drive back to London, the better. I hadn’t thought to dispose of the blasted washcloth before drifting to sleep the night before, and of course Jeeves had seen it when he brought my morning tea. He hadn't said anything on the subject, so at present it was just one more thing in the pile of unspeakable whatsits between Jeeves and self. Ordinarily, you see, I'd tend to matters like this in the bath, leaving no trace, as it were. And now, today of all days, he'd had to tidy up after... well, that. I couldn't decide if I was more mortified about the b. w. or angry at Jeeves' equally blasted indiscretion.

When we got home, I gave him leave to shimmer off and tend to the unpacking while I headed to the Drones for lunch. I have to admit, I dawdled a goodish bit, because I was none too enthused about the thought of the conversation I would have to have with my valet when I got home. I didn’t even know where to start, dash it!

Finally, the first diners were arriving, and I had to bid retreat if I didn’t mean to spend all night there. When I returned to the flat Jeeves took my hat and whangee, poured me a drink, lit my turkish and stood at respectful attention. Taking a closer look, I noticed to my astonishment that Jeeves actually looked nervous. There had been occurrences in the past, of course, where the young master had had heated words for Jeeves, even the occasional threat of termination, but this was the first time I could remember that he had actually seemed fearful that I might really sack him. For the first time in our whole association, I truly had the upper hand on the man. It didn’t feel good, as I had always thought it would, which confused me and rather gave me the pip. 

“Well?” 

“Sir?”

“Don’t play daft, Jeeves, it doesn’t suit you." I was speaking louder than I'd meant to, but I was too angry to apologise. "Start from the beginning."

“Yes, sir." He paused for a moment. "Miss Wickham called on me while you were at Cannes last summer. She informed me that she had spent some time at a certain country house, at which a young lady formerly of my acquaintance is employed. The circumstances are not clear to me, but it seems the young lady occasioned to boast to Miss Wickham of my... abilities.”

“And Bobbie came to you for first-hand experience?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you obliged?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Just the once?”

“No, sir, I have continued to perform this service for Miss Wickham periodically at her request.”

“And Honoria Glossop?”

“Her as well, sir.”

“Who else?”

“Sir, I do not feel at liberty to divulge --”

“I could give a blasted fig about what you feel at liberty to divulge. I --"

I suddenly came to think of something and jumped to my feet. It was a bally good thing I had been sitting on the chesterfield and Jeeves standing a bit in the offing, because if he'd been closer I might have grabbed him by the collar.

"You had better tell me right now,” I said, and dashed if my voice didn’t sound impressively low and menacing and whatsit, “that you have never laid a finger on my cousin Angela, or I will do everything in my power to see that your next job is tending stables in blasted Northumberland!”

Jeeves’ eyes widened, and he looked rather perturbed, though I suspect that had more to do with my tone than with the threat, because he must know as well as I did that if I sacked him there would be a queue of men ready to hire him, regardless of whether I gave him a favorable reference. 

“No, sir. Miss Travers has never requested this service from me, and I should have been loathe to comply had she done so.” 

“Good.” The reddish rage that had suddenly consumed me trickled off as quickly as it had arrived. "So these young ladies recommend your services to one another?"

"So it appears, sir."

"And how much do they pay you?"

"Sir!" Jeeves had the absolute bally nerve to take on an offended look about the ocular regions. "If I took remuneration, I would be little more than a common whore!"

I gave a little shrug, meant to indicate that at that moment I considered him something of the very sort.

"So what do you get in exchange for allowing them to call on you like some rent boy and leaving yourself open to charges of inappropriate behavior?" I suddenly came to think of something: "Or even rape! Who's to say one of these young women couldn't find herself pregnant and in need of a convenient story?"

"I have taken great care to avoid siring children, sir. And surely, you regard these ladies higher than thinking them capable of such deceit?"

“Stiffy Byng? Hardly.” He didn’t respond to that, and so I barrelled on: “Well? What is it you get in return?”

“Forgive my bluntness, sir. I enjoy the act. These beautiful young women offer themselves to me freely and I am not a good enough man to refuse such enticing inquiries”

He spoke calmly about these sordid matters, and although I am by no means a delicate specimen, I was overcome with a feeling that I didn’t know the man standing across from me at all. 

“What of the risks? You cannot possibly think it’s worth it?”

“Sir, I... “ Unprecedentedly, he faltered, but in true Jeeves-fashion, he rallied: “I do, as you yourself observed, first consider my own pleasure.”

“Is this intercourse-business really that bally pleasurable, that you would risk everything you have?”

The Jeevesian map was as unperturbed, if that is the word I want, as ever, but a sheen of disbelief settled across his eyes. “Surely, sir, you’ve been intimate with a woman?”

“You know perfectly well that I haven’t, Jeeves.”

“Sir?”

“Has there ever been a lady in my bed while you’ve been with me?”

“I assumed, sir, that you were merely employing some mode of discretion to preserve the young ladies’ privacy.”

“Have you known me to be exceedingly discrete, Jeeves?”

“No, sir,” he admitted. 

“Well,” I said, because there didn’t seem to be much else left to say. I scratched my head, and tried to think of a way out of this soup. 

“Jeeves,” I said, “I am trying to think of a way out of this soup. You will sever relations, of course.”

“I already have, sir.” 

“Oh. Really?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well. Er. I say. What did you tell them?”

I expected him to bristle at such an invasion of his privacy, but he must have been truly afraid of being sacked, because he replied swiftly.

“That you had discovered evidence of my philandering, and that I felt it best to end our relations in an effort to, perchance, preserving my employment.”

“How did they take it?” 

“Well, mostly. Miss Glossop did appear somewhat wrathful, but I believe I managed to calm her sufficiently.”

“Er. Right. Then I suppose we can put all this business behind us, Jeeves.”

“Really, sir?”

“I can’t see why not,” I said. I was suddenly rather desperate to get this conversation over with. 

“As you say, sir. Would you care for some mutton for your dinner?”

“Whatever you feel like cooking up, Jeeves.” 

The evening passed in awkward silence, and I fled to bed as early as I could, hoping this whole unpleasantness would be forgotten sooner rather than later.


End file.
